All Those Years Ago
by GraceOrazio
Summary: Bran wants Arya to marry, but she does NOT agree. Some spoilers.  I DO NOT own the characters or anything in this, thank GRRM for that/them!  Reviews are appreciated
1. All Those Years Ago

**This is only chapter 1 but I will post the next one as soon as I am finished with it!**

"WHAT?" Arya exclaimed, taken aback.

"You heard me. We need a truce with the Iron Throne, and Sansa is… Unavailable," Bran said calmly.

"Don't try and be 'delicate' with me. She's missing. Everybody knows that. But there is _no way _I'm gonna marry some man I've never even met!"

"You will, and that's final," Bran said.

"Fine. Whatever you say, _Your Grace,_" Arya mocked. "Would you like anything else, _Your Grace? _Force me to marry some man who could be twenty years older than me, why not? _King Bran_ can do _whatever_ he wants, and who cares what anyone else thinks!"

Bran abruptly turned his horse around and walked away, leaving Arya standing there, fuming.

She had cried very few times in her life. When her parents had died, and her brothers, (although she now knew they had only been hiding) and she was determined not to cry again. Not for such a _silly _thing. Sansa would have cried about this, but no, not Arya. She hadn't even cried when the Westerosi men had found her and blackmailed her into leaving Braavos. But now, at this of all times, Arya felt like crying.

She couldn't stop Bran from marrying her off like some common farmer's daughter, but she could make her new husband's life a living Hell. As her first small act of defiance, she purposefully made herself late to meet her betrothed, and putting on breeches, not a dress, and leaving her long brown hair a tangled chunk of chaos. When Bran finally sent a few women to come and get her, she was a piece of art, and there was no time for them to spare to fix her up without being late to dinner.

Walking into the dining hall was Arya's favorite part of the evening, seeing all of the diner's eyes pop, hearing the gasps of surprise. Sadly, the women had fixed her hair on the way down, but she still had her clothes, and her wits. She immediately saw the King. He sat at the head of the table, next to Bran, in a seat of honor. Although Bran was glaring at her in a _Why are you so evil? _way, the King still had not looked up. Arya found this irritating. If he was going to force her to marry him, couldn't he at least look at her?

Bran leaned over and whispered something in his ear. _Probably an apology, _Arya thought angrily as he looked up. His midnight-black hair fell into his blue eyes, which were widening in shock as Arya made her assessment. She knew what he must see: Long brown hair almost to her waist, startling icy gray eyes, and body that looked like a boy's in baggy clothes. Not a very attractive sight. Still, his reaction was not what she'd hoped for. He turned away. He leaned towards Bran and they began having a whispered conversation in which Bran's smile grew bigger every moment, and Arya's temper flared twice as big as before. She studied him the whole time he ate, ignoring the whisperings of other women. He couldn't have been more than five-and-twenty, but Arya had never been good with ages. He had huge muscles, although his right arm's were slightly bigger than his left, and got a pained look on his face fairly often, as though someone was hurting him. He looked _so familiar. _Although she wracked her brain for hours, she couldn't understand. Until she fell asleep.

Shapes and colors and faces flitted randomly across her vision, but only one showed up more than once: the King. Then her father appeared, frowning. He berated her for not being a lady like Sansa. He was angry, so very angry, but all Arya wanted to do was curl up in a ball and disappear. Next was her mother, and Septa Mordane, and Sansa, Robb, even Jon Snow. He took Needle from her and broke it in half, telling her it wasn't a toy for girls. And then Arya was alone, not to mention frightened.

She heard the distant sound of swords banging together, and she leaped to her feet, eager to find someone she could speak with. What she actually found were two men, who both looked so alike they could be brothers. One was the King, the other took Arya a little time to recognize. It was Gendry. Her one-time companion from five years back, who had left her to smith for the Brotherhood without Banners. The boy who had left her pack, all those years ago.

Gendry and the King were fighting. Stares locked, swords clashing, they were trying to kill each other.

"Help me!" Gendry yelled, "I'm your friend! He's going to kill me, you must help me!"  
>"I am your rightful King! Your betrothed! Help <em>me!<em>" the King bellowed over the ringing of the metal.

"How am I to help either of you?" Arya cried, "I don't even have Needle- Oh!" Needle had appeared in her hand. She advanced upon the King. After all, Gendry had been her friend. She couldn't let this stranger murder him! But just as she was about to finish her bloody work, the King disappeared. She turned around to see that Gendry was gone too. She gave a wordless cry of dismay. Was she to roam this terrible world alone forever? But then she heard it: her mother's voice, calling her.

"Arya, you have made a mistake, you stupid child. They are the _same man. _Gendry is the King, the King is Gendry," she said in a terrible, croaking, choke-y voice.

"Wait…" Arya said "that means…"

"That you are going to marry your old 'pack member'. Yes, it's true. Well, sweet dreams."

Arya awoke drenched in sweat, the bed sheets tangled about her legs. Sunlight was peeking in her window, right into her eyes. Grumbling to herself, Arya had forgotten all about her dream until she remembered where she was and why. Her breathing quickened, her legs felt as though they were made of cotton. She practically fell onto her bed.

Her handmaids found her that way, staring at the wall in shock, face pale, eyes wide. Ignoring her weak protests, they scrubbed her raw, brushed her hair, powdered her face, and dressed her in a ridiculous pink, frilly dress Arya would never even have thought of _looking _at were she not thinking of other things. All she remembered of Gendry; his character, looks, everything fit.

When Bran came to escort her to the gardens he wore a half-smile and had a faraway, happy look in his eyes. He saw Arya, though, his grin widened.

"Sister… You look so… Charming," he said, obviously at a loss for words. He took her arm and led her to meet her betrothed for walk through the gardens.

PS I'm only 13, so please no rude or obscene comments! Thanks(:[But if you have anything to say that could in any way help with my writing and isn't offensive, I would appreciate it!:D]


	2. Now and Only Now

Frilly pink dresses and high-heeled shoes were _definitely _an experience Arya was not going to repeat. Ever. She must have tripped at least ten times on the way to the garden, blushing every time, and Bran was certainly _not _helping by laughing at her. Although he did try to hide it behind his hand, for which she was grateful.

After arriving in the castle's gardens she had nothing to do but sit and wait. And wait. And wait. The minutes ticked by, each one more nerve-racking than the last. _He __**would**_ _be late, _Arya thought, _now that I know who he really is. _She was starting to give up hope, even thinking of leaving, when he finally arrived.

"Hello," said the King –no, Gendry. Arya had to remember that– "my apologies for keeping you waiting. Er… Shall we… Proceed?" He offered her his arm, which she took, although hesitantly. After a few awkwardly silent moments, he spoke.

"You look… Lovely?" He was so awkward, so... Naïve, even, that Arya almost laughed, but she was feeling the same, if her inability to think was any indication.

"I know," she blurted out suddenly.

He was confused. "Know what?" He got that pained look on his face, the look that meant he was thinking. Or trying to think, more like as not.

"Who you are… Gendry. But there _is _one thing I don't know. Why the hell are you _king?_" His lips curved up in a half smile.

"I'm hurt," he said, kidding. At least she thought he was. "It took you long enough. I recognized you the moment you walked in the dining hall, _Arry._" Arya stiffened at the use of the name she had used while traveling with Yoren. "As to how I became king… Well, it's a long story. And honestly, I do not want to be King." He said the last part in a whisper. _Varys must have spies nearby or some such thing, _Arya thought.

He explained it all to her: Robert's oldest male bastard, Stannis had legitimized him on his deathbed, and the Brotherhood had proclaimed him, Lady Stoneheart (she no longer had any of Catelyn's qualities or characteristics; she was a machine wanting nothing but vengeance) using him to bring down the Lannisters and finally have her revenge. Although her plan worked, once she had sated her thirst for revenge she had no purpose left, and she had jumped off of a cliff in her extreme depression and loneliness. The onslaught of information left Arya breathless. She held on to Gendry, not trusting her own legs to support her weight. He put his arm around her waist and half-carried her over to a bench where she could sit and rest.

"Are you ok?" He asked, looking worried, his voice low and soft. Arya hadn't realized until then how deeper it had gotten. And how much bigger he was. He could have picked her up and carried her to her room on his own with one arm without any effort. "Should I call for help?"

"No… I'm fine. Really, I just need a moment," Arya said. Then, on a sudden impulse, she asked "How did we get here? It seems like just yesterday I was ten and masquerading as a boy headed to the Watch, and now I'm marrying you… The Bull." She grinned.

"Yeah…" Gendry said, obviously uncomfortable, and far from done worrying about her. Just to prove that she was fine, Arya stood up and made for the door back inside, making it halfway before tripping over her stupid dress. He caught her elbow, a concerned look on his face. Arya yanked her arm away, irritated. She could take care of herself. She stalked back into her rooms, but she could still hear his trailing laughter through the door.

Slash, stab, dead. Another training dummy, hacked apart by Needle, but it wasn't the same. Not the same as a real opponent, on the battle field, the wind roaring in your ears… Arya was suddenly aware of a figure standing behind her. She whirled around, only to be face-to-face with the young king. She stepped back, and saw that he held a training sword, and had an inviting grin on his face. Backing up a few steps, Arya grabbed a random extra sword, identical to his, off the ground, and the fight began.

He was obviously trying to "take it easy on her," so as not to hurt her, but she didn't need that. After she smacked him a few times he began to fight harder, to the point where he was actually trying to win. Years of training in Braavos had taught Arya well; she could beat him with her eyes closed, something she had learned from her experience of actually being blind for a short time. She was trained like a waterdancer, and it showed. Her movements flowed gracefully, her tiny body quick, and he barely delivered any blows before the fight was over, and he was down. Arya reached out a hand to help him up, which he took, and pulled her down into the dirt with him. Laughing, they both stood up, leaning on each other for support.

Maybe being married to him wouldn't be too bad. He treated her like an equal, and not some small girl to be protected. Well, usually. And he hadn't asked about her past, or where she'd been, or anything, for which she was grateful. With him, all that mattered was here and now, and nothing else.

**Well thanks for reading! Yes, I will try writing a third chapter, for those of you who care, and if you don't, well, too bad **

**Leave a review ONLY if you have something nice or constructive to say! Thanks!**


	3. Soon But Not Yet

**SO sorry for not posting for a while! I had a softball tournament and AllStars is starting and my dad's birthday and… Yeah. I've been pretty busy, so sorry for not updating in so long. But still, thanks for all the reviews and such, you guys are the best(: And sorry my chapters are so short, but when I write them on Microsoft Word they seem way longer… Well, I'll try my best to update more frequently and make the chapters longer, if anyone cares XD It should be easy, now that school's over and everything. And, just a little warning, I read a really cute romance book a few hours ago (Yes, the whole thing start to finish) so I'm contemplating putting some romance in this chapter… Let's see how this turns out!**

Even after years of trying and trying and _trying, _Arya still couldn't sew properly to save her life. Nor could she act a lady, walk in high heels or be any less stubborn, but at the moment all she could think of was her sewing. _Why can't I sew perfect, beautiful little things like Sansa had? _She thought with more than a touch of irritation. When the septa came around to see her work, she was clearly shocked. Arya dearly wanted to tell her that it only made her look more like a rat with beady little eyes, but she held herself back, with no little difficulty. If she was going to be a _stupid _queen, why not start being nice to people now?

_Because,_ a little voice inside her head nagged, _it's no fun. _

_Shut up,_ she told it sternly, and there were no further comments made.

She looked down at her silly dress. It was blue with silver stitching, and it looked quite good on her. And she hated it. She tripped over it constantly, and kept accidentally sewing the sleeves to the fabric she'd been working on. So far her day wasn't going very well. Until she saw it.

A skinny black cat, so starved that she could see each of its ribs from twenty paces, stood on the windowsill. He looked hungry, so _of course _Arya had to give him something. As the cat lapped up a bowl of milk, Arya thought about her childhood, and what her life had been like before Jon Arryn had gone snooping around and gotten himself killed. She thought of Robb and Jon Snow and Rickon, Sansa and Bran, but most of all, she thought of Nymeria. She had not seen her old friend, but strange things had been happening of late. There were continued reports of wolves stalking about, getting closer and closer to King's Landing, and Arya had been having dreams. Dreams that most people didn't have… Of a pack of wolves, seeking something, or some_**one**__, _and destroying all in their path to finding it. Snapping out of her reverie, she looked up to see the septa staring at her. The old woman had a look on her face, a look the clearly said _What is wrong with this crazy person and _why _is she feeding that stupid thing? _Arya bared her teeth at her, hoping that it would pass for a smile. The old crone looked away quickly.

She felt something nudging at her leg, and looked down to see the cat. It wanted something, she knew, but what? More food? It couldn't possibly still be hungry after emptying that _huge _bowl. The cat took a few steps toward the door, and then trotted back to Arya. _Ah, _she thought with amusement, _apparently I am supposed to follow him. _He nipped at her finger insistently, and she stood up with a sigh. Donning her cloak, she swept out of the room, nodding to the septa as she passed. She walked as if she had a clear purpose, when honestly she was confused herself. One thing she knew was that if you looked perfectly normal, no sneaking around or anything like that, people are much less likely to notice you or to suspect you of anything.

The starved little cat led her into the edges of the Kingswood, to a point where the trees were just starting become thick enough that she couldn't see the castle anymore. Arya heard howling in the distance, but oddly, she wasn't afraid. The wolves were coming closer, and fast. But Arya had nothing to fear; she wasa wolf. Not just any wolf, either, but a Stark direwolf. She was in no danger. The cat scuttled away, but Arya paid it no mind. With each passing moment she felt as if she was healing, being sewn back together. As if a piece of her had been separated, removed, for a very long time and she had grown used to it until now. But finally, her other half was joining her at last. No, not her other half. Nymeria was _her. She _was _Nymeria._

With a leap and something that sounded curiously like a squeal, Nymeria was with her again. Finally, Arya was whole. It was time to head back to the castle. To her betrothed. It was time to go _home._ Winterfell would always hold a special place in her heart, but Arya had come to terms with the fact that she would never again be at home there; not after all that had happened. After all that had changed.

Arya walked barefoot into the council room, Nymeria padding alongside her, and watched as all the council member's jaws dropped. She certainly looked rather interesting, to say the least. Her short, plain blue dress went down to her knees, which was considered absurdly low in places other than the free cities. She had her long hair back in a braid, and her handmaids had woven flowers into it. Her gray eyes glinted mischievously as she watched the men's reactions. Suddenly, Gendry began to laugh. A deep-throated, happy laugh, so carefree and unexpected that soon everyone else was laughing along with him. After the moment of mirth had passed, Varys spoke up.

"My Lord, we have much more to discuss. The Dothraki are not content with our truce, we must come up with a suitable reply to King Bran about the new borders, and there is also your impending wedding, and…" He went on, but all Arya heard was his words, about the wedding. True, it was rapidly approaching, only two weeks away. Everything was happening so fast, she barely ever had any time to herself, any time to think. Her life had changed so much in the last few weeks.

She turned around abruptly and ran out of the room, her direwolf followed at her heels. The king called after her, but she ignored him. She ran and ran and ran until she couldn't run any more. She doubled over, panting and gasping for breath. Arms folding across her knees, she sat with her head against a wall, eyes closed as she calmed her racing heart. Everything was happening so fast. She couldn't think, she couldn't breathe. She became dimly aware of a strong, warm pair of arms encircling her, but she couldn't stop her rapidly beating heart, let alone wonder who had followed her.

"Arya," a deep voice said quietly, "What happened? What's wrong?" the voice sounded worried. "What are you so afraid of?" What _was _she afraid of? She had faced opponents armed with nothing, had lived in an alien city completely blind, and now any mention of marriage made her fall apart. _I'm afraid of being abandoned again. _

Arya came to three conclusions all at once: 1) Nymeria was gone. 2) The mysterious speaker was Gendry. 3) She had spoken out loud. He had heard her.

"Wait… What? You think I'll… Leave you?" It _did _make sense. Everybody had left her. Her parents, her older brother and sister, Yoren and Hot Pie. Even Gendry. He had left her, and she had been stolen by the Hound, which eventually led to her arrival in Braavos. Several minutes passed where neither of them said a thing. Finally, he spoke up. "I won't. As long as you wish me to stay, I will." Arya lifted her head up to look at him, and his face was right there. They were almost touching, but neither of them pulled away. Slowly, hesitantly, he brought his hand up to gently cup her face. They were both holding their breath, scared of what might happen next.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he brought his face down to hers, until their lips met.

The kiss was sweet and shy, questioning, even, if a kiss could be called that. Arya froze, unsure what to do. Gendry moved away, confusion evident on his face. Hopping up, Arya ran (again!) out of the passage and into her chambers. What just happened? Why had he kissed her? What was going on? She felt a cold, wet nose bump her hand. Nymeria. And she had gotten her a handkerchief. How _wonderful. _

Arya sat and thought. And thought. And thought. Had she like kissing him? Maybe. It hadn't been horrible, at least. It was more the kind of thing Sansa would enjoy, not Arya. Did she want to kiss him again? Possibly. What was she going to do next? Most likely talk to him. And _soon_, before he started feeling bad and blaming himself; he wouldn't be a very good king if he felt he wasn't being chivalrous, now would he?

MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA cliff hanger! (Well, my attempt at a cliffhanger.)

**OK really quick I'm going to have fun and be obnoxious. This is my sad attempt at being funny:**

**Girls reading this are thinking: **_***GASP* OMG what will happen next? What will Arya do? Will she end up with Gendry and live happily ever after? *SQUEALS* Now I'm going to leave a million reviews saying to update, weeeeee!**_

**Boys reading this are thinking: **_**EWWW cooties! RUN AWAY!**_

_**(Not to be offensive or anything. I AM a girl, and I don't hate boys :D)  
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**The end.**

**(But I **_**will **_**try to update ASAP. Sorry it took me so long for this chapter! Love you guys!)**


	4. Author's Note PLEASE READ

Hey faithful readers of mine! I know some of you are probably sharpening your pitchforks getting ready to come after me for not updating in so long, and I just wanna say I'm sorry! It's been pretty chaotic in my family lately, but that isn't really the problem. I've had writer's block for a while. But don't worry, I'm doing the best I can! I'm working on the next chapter, and I'm pretty sure I will be posting it sometime in the next week, but in the meantime, if anybody has any suggestions, please PM me or something! Thanks for being awesome, remember to review and check out my other stories


	5. How Long? Too Long

**Heyy people just thought I would clear something up… If you are some creepy pervert who only reads my fanfiction story for Arya/Gendry "adult" things… Well, this is not going to be rated M, so, as an ASoIaF character would say, go bugger yourself! XD**

Arya knew exactly where Gendry went after their, _ahem_, misunderstanding. She headed straight to the smithy, and was not surprised to find him hammering at the metal as if trying to flatten it. Completely immersed in what he was doing, he did not notice she had come in. After waiting for a few minutes for him to turn around and see her, she decided to send in Nymeria. She walked up, pushed at his legs with her head, and with a thump and a quiet exclamation of surprise there was a much undignified, very disgruntled king sitting on the ground. Arya snickered at the ridiculous look on his face. Just because she was there to make him feel better didn't mean she was going to be nice.

"Hey," she said casually, "what are you doing on the ground?"

"What am I doing on the..! Being shoved over by your _pet_, that's what I'm doing!"

"That sounds very entertaining, but wouldn't you rather stand up?" Blushing, he stood quickly and brushed off the dirt from his clothes.

"Listen," he began, "about earlier…"

"Don't mention it," Arya said gruffly, "if we're going to be… married,"-she grimaced- "Then there's going to be a lot more than that going on." Gendry's face reddened even more, if that was even possible. Arya wasn't too excited about that part of being married either.

Waking up in the morning with a hand covering your mouth is not a pleasant feeling. Especially if, right after putting your hand over your mouth, they throw your sword out the window, gag you and stuff you in a sack. Although it is very satisfactory if you manage to bite them hard enough to make them bleed.

But it hurts, as Arya soon learned, when a person hits you on the head with the flat of their blade. It can even knock you out for several hours. Long enough for you to be taken out of your home with your captors telling passerby's you are just the dirty laundry.

It truly was a beautiful sight. There was a sparkling waterfall, green grass, even a bright yellow sun and no clouds in the sky. It would be prefect, if only it wasn't just a painting. In a room with no windows, just four blank walls and a ceiling. Even the door was bolted shut. She took this as a complement. _Obviously _her kidnappers were frightened she would murder them in their sleep and run off, or something like that. But she knew that wouldn't happen unless they had been stupid enough to steal Needle and put it in the room with her. Unfortunately, Arya never had been that lucky. She had never been lucky at all.

Twice a day the door was opened and a small boy with auburn hair would bring in her food and leave. He never said a word. Any of the times Arya tried to speak to him he would glance at her and put a finger to his lips. He must have been commanded not to speak to her. He couldn't have been more than six or seven years old. His eyes were what intrigued her the most. They were blue, and startlingly familiar. He mouthed a word, "Wait". Wondering what he meant, Arya drifted back to sleep.

She dreamed that night. She dreamt of her time at Harrenhal, back when she was Nan the cupbearer. She dreamt of her time in Braavos and of the House of Black and White. She awoke drenched with sweat and felt as if she was burning up. She drifted in and out of sleep for what seemed like years but was only several hours. A woman came in and felt her forehead and made her drink some vile-tasting liquid. Was she sick? Arya did not know. It seemed like so much time had passed. She wondered if anyone remembered her, back where she had come from. Where had she come from? Arya couldn't remember. Who was Arya? Well, she would worry about that later. Her identity didn't seem like such an important thing at all.

When the woman from earlier came back in, she sponged Arya's forehead gently. Drifting in and out of sleep, she was dimly aware that she dumped a huge bucket of ice-cold water all over her. She wanted to jump up and yell at the stupid woman, but she hadn't the strength. Come to think of it, she couldn't move at all, and hadn't for the longest time. That couldn't be healthy.

Arya heard a commotion coming from just outside her door. With quite a bit of effort she found she could move her arms and legs. She stood and almost fell over immediately. After walking in circles for several minutes, she could almost walk like normal. She started pounding on the door. When the door swung inwards it almost knocked her over, so weak was she.

"Whadayou want?" an extremely scratchy and irritating man's voice said.

"To get out of this stupid place!" Arya replied angrily.

He chuckled. Chuckled! At her! "You ain't gettin' out of here just yet. Not 'till yer stupid king pays yer ransom."

"What was that noise?"

"What noise? The one just then… Well… It wasn't me falling on me rump it wasn't, no sirree! It only happened four times, and not since that one day…" He slammed and latched the door, leaving Arya alone once again.

When next she heard a noise, she thought he had fallen on his rump again, hopefully off of a cliff, but sadly, it was not to be. After several minutes of clanging and waiting, she heard her name. A man called her, but it wasn't scratch-voice rump-faller man, it was someone she didn't know.

"In here!" she called out. After all, this could be her only way to escape. Soon enough the door opened and her savior handed her a huge sword. It was awkward to carry and half her size, but she thought she could use it if she absolutely had to. Which she didn't.

Leading her through a maze of twists and turns, the man did not say a word. Arya was sick of silence, but was afraid her voice would carry to unfriendly ears. Eventually they emerged from the maze to a clearing. With people. Actual people! It seemed too good to be true to poor Arya Stark, who had been captured and imprisoned with no one to talk to for days, if not weeks.

A person stepped out from behind a small group of armed men. A small, feminine person, with blue eyes and long auburn-colored hair.

A person Arya had presumed dead, or as good as.

Someone she had never thought to see again.

Sansa.

**Dun dun dunnnnnn! PS please review! Yesterday I saw a **_**horrible **_**fic, it really was terrible, and it had over a hundred reviews, and I must say, that is pretty discouraging. So please review! **


	6. To Go Back In Time

**Hey people sorry it's been a while since I last updated last but it took me **_**forever **_**to finish Dance! A week! That is an extremely long time for me, equivalent to about a month. But oh well, the show must go on! Enjoy! **

Standing amongst several men huddled around a tree stump, she still looked a lady, even amidst the dirt and trees and the dead animal not five feet away from her. Some things never changed. Although some did.

"All of you," Sansa said sharply "go and make sure they were not followed. Quickly!" The men all hurried off to obey her orders. She turned and looked at Arya, her face curiously blank.

"Where have you _been_?" Arya asked.

"The Eyrie"

"You're lying."

"Not entirely."

"Tell me."

"My little sister has become an interrogator now, has she?"

"No."

"Who are you then?"

"No one." She could almost hear the kindly man's voice in her head, saying _liar._

"I see Arya Stark."

She did not know how to reply to that, so she just turned on her heel and stomped away, not having gotten the answers she wanted. Her first meeting with her sister after over five years hadn't gone exactly as she had expected, but Arya didn't care. She had her sister back.

The sounds of men breaking camp awoke Arya the next morning. Eventually they were all able to break camp and go on their way. She was given a horse to carry her, but that was all.

"Where are we going?" Arya asked the man riding to her left.

"King's Landing." He replied brusquely, and he would not say another word.

Riding up to Sansa gave her very little time to contemplate what to say to her next, so that she was at a loss for words once she finally reached her.

"Yes?" Sansa said slowly. _How did you know where I was? Where were you really? Why are you surrounded by knights and heading towards King's Landing? _All of those questions and more popped into Arya's head, but all that came out was a small, scared-sounding "I thought you were dead."

She thought she could see the ghost of a smile on her sister's mouth, "I am right here. Unless I am a ghost, you must have been mistaken." They rode on in silence for a while.

"What happened to you after we were separated? Tell me the truth; I'll know if you're lying." Arya asked suddenly, loudly.

For many moments Sansa was silent. Arya began to think she would not answer her, when she spoke. "I left with Lord Baelish to the Eyrie, it is true," she said softly "but I have not been there for several years. He died my hair and I posed as his natural born daughter, Alayne Stone. I left, after I learned that he had poisoned Sweetrobin. That was why his fits grew worse.

"But when I tried to leave, Lord Baelish stopped me. He said I could not go. He tried to grab me and carry me back, but I fought him. He fell, and is now burning in whatever hell he was sent to. I left the Eyrie, hired these 'wonderful' sellswords, and have been looking for you ever since. I knew the Lannisters would have a tough time killing you. Now tell me: what happened to you?"

Arya spilled her whole story, not even bothering to exclude the many kills she had made in the past years. "…and when I woke the next morning in the ship, the blindness caused by the drink the kindly man had given me was gone." She concluded.

"Ah, I see we both have had grand adventures. I used to dream of having such adventures, only at the end a dashing knight in shining armor would save me."

"You must be _my_ knight in shining armor, then."

"Ah, then you will have to get your king to knight me."

Two sellswords approached Sansa and Arya, dragging behind them another man.

"He killed 'im. Me best friend! In cold blood! I demand that he be hung," one of the men said haughtily. Sansa gave him an ice-cold look.

"If you would have this man dead, let it be at your own hands," she said slowly. "If you cannot kill him yourself and hear his last worst, then it may be that he does not deserve to die." The man turned to walk away, but she stopped him. "And one more thing," she said in a deadly voice "you must never presume to _demand _anything of me _ever again._ Do you understand?"

He gulped, eyes wide as he replied "Yes m'lady."

_She is like iron, _Arya thought, _but covered with velvet. She has changed since those days when we were children. But so have I._

A small figure was spotted riding toward the company. No one would explain to Arya who it was and why they just ignored the small person as he rode straight into the camp. He rode right up to Sansa and Arya, and finally shrugged off his hood, revealing curly auburn hair and bright blue eyes. He looked like a younger, male version of Sansa.

"Rickon," Arya gasped "you're alive! And wait…. _You _were the boy who brought me food! You told me to wait! You knew they were going to save me? And you didn't say anything!" It irked her that everyone seemed to know so much that she didn't, even her younger brother. He was very small, like Arya, but that was where the resemblance ended.

"Where is Shaggydog?" Sansa asked, both of them completely ignoring Arya.

"He's off hunting somewhere over there." He gestured vaguely to the left. He looked to Arya. "Where is Nymeria?" She was ashamed. In all of the excitement and chaos she had completely forgotten about her direwolf.

"Oh Gods…" She said "I expect she's chained up in the castle somewhere, keeping everyone up with her howling."

"I'm glad I'm not there." Her youngest brother said "She does have a dreadful singing voice." Sansa agreed

"You know," Arya said thoughtfully, "I think this is the first time all of us Stark children will have been together since Jon Arryn was murdered."

"We aren't children anymore." Sansa said, "Well, except for baby Rickon here." She ruffled his hair.

"Hey!" He protested indignantly, "I am almost a man grown!"

"You aren't even as tall as me" Arya pointed out.

"Shut up" he muttered good-naturedly, blushing and sticking his tongue out at her, and Arya did the same back while Sansa laughed.

**Well, that's it really. Don't worry; they'll finally reach King's Landing in the next chapter!**


End file.
